Page 87 of Cherry Auction

But Brooke suddenly cowers behind Quinn. “Don’t let that bastard touch me again. He’s had me locked in a dungeon all week. He beat me and made me eat from a dog bowl.”

Brooke looks me right in the eye as she says it. “I assume our little public performance fulfilled the terms beyond a reasonable doubt? I expect my fucking money in the specified bank account I gave you when I signed that fucking contractnow. I want to get the fuck out of this town and never look back. You cunts have doneenoughto me.”

Her words punch me in the guts, and I stagger a step back. Oh fuck. The last two days she’s been playing me to make sure I let her go.

Because I’m the monster in this story.

She’s been trying to escape me any way she could. She’s smart. When I caught her in the picture room, I was angry. I wince as the smashing whisky glass against the wall replays in my head. I was violent.

I’m a billionaire and she knew it. She probably thought that if she tried to escape then, I’d have like, fucking dogs chase her down or some shit. A hand drags from my hair down my face and I keep stumbling back, feeling sick.

She survived the only way she could, waiting until she could escape me publicly. Probably the same way shesurvived her father all those years. The same wayIsurvived her father.

She gave in. She played a part. All the while loathing me inside. She played a better game of chess until she could outwit me and escape.

I stopped playing chess that night with the pictures when I learned the truth, but she didn’t know. I’d already trained her by then, after god-knows-what that sick fuck did to her over the years and— oh fuck, I’m going to be sick.

Because in her head, I’d essentially just forced her to have sex with me.

Mads, what have I done to you?

I run for the men’s room but don’t make it, dropping to my knees and losing my dinner in the big fake plant Caleb’s decorator used to hide the trashcan.

THIRTY-FIVE

BROOKE

What the fuckare you doing out there?I scream at her from inside the box.

I can’t believe what just came out of her mouth.But her feet just keep walking towards the back door.

No, not her feet.Myfeet.My feet.

But here in the box, they don’t feel like my feet. Domhnall just stood there looking so stunned. Not even betrayed. I saw the shame twist his features. It was the same— I choke on sobs inside the box. It’s the same look he had on his face when?—

The sob catches in my chest. She won’t let itbreak free.

Fuck, I need to go back and warn Domhnall my father is here. That he has Moira! I need to warn him about Moira! There’s nothing on this earth he loves more than her.

But the bitch I’m on a ride-along inside just pushes out the back door. The warm air of the Texas summer night after the cool AC of the club punches me in the face.

Me! That’s right.Me. I try to focus on the feeling of my five senses. That’s what Professor Roberts said to do, right? So focus, dammit! The breeze tickles the tiny hairs of my forearms. And the sudden hot air is bright in my lungs, outlining the shape of them from the inside. Good, good. What about my nose? What does my nose smell?

Be Daddy’s good girl. Be a good girl now.

Eyes. What do her—my—eyes see? We’re striding confidently towards a van at the end of an alley, where the bright lights installed behind the club can’t reach. As my eyes become accustomed to the growing darkness, I see the van clearer. It’s rocking back and forth.

My feet keep taking me towards the van’s tailgate door.

I stop there for only a moment and blink.

Hand, I try desperately.What is my hand doing??

But I can only watch in horror without being able to stop it as my hand reaches down and opens the back door of the van.

I scream when the door lifts up to reveal— “No!”

My father’s in the back of the van, fucking Moira. She’sbent over, face smashed into the rough carpeting, bare ass in the air, squeaking in pleasure. My father, one fist against the window, ruts into her from behind with furious thrusts.

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